


Ennui &

by bettasoap (orphan_account)



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-17 01:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14178024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bettasoap
Summary: Reality was just a little bit disjointed for Claude Faustus. He saw double. Quadruple. It was like he had eight eyes, or maybe only one- or maybe his eyes weren’t on his face, but on his hands and legs. Maybe on the back of his neck. His teeth could have eyes littering their surfaces like cavities- and maybe his heart was made of irises and pupils. Maybe he was just one big eye, seeing and observing- but unfeeling and unthinking. Blinking to get the dust out, perhaps shedding a tear, but certainly never in front of anyone else.





	1. i

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rest
> 
> nonverbal tunes if you'd prefer, linked initially (be sure to lower the vol for that ambiance y'kno)

[x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EYQuz1ORk0I)

Tired footsteps dragged through the doorway of the minute apartment, leaving behind the ghastly cries of the day and the wind- and Claude Faustus fell onto his bed in exhaustion. He lay face down among the soft sheets, above him blinking the gentle yellow glow of string lights, not casting much brightness at all due to the light filtering in through the window on the wall next to his bed, the cloudy day not dismal but cooling. Even with his glasses smushing uncomfortably into the bridge of his nose, he remained, simply allowing the stress of the day to not fall off, but recede into his spine, where it would become more taut and pinched until it broke- but that was fine.

He didn’t care much- and using barely any effort, lest he make himself dizzy- he righted himself so he could stare at the ceiling. He thought nothing- felt nothing- and let himself be nothing just for a few moments. Just a void of emptiness, of boredom, and exhaustion. He let himself forget about caring for his tarantulas- Rembrandt, DaVinci, and Monet. He let himself forget about the mess on his coffee table that he didn’t have time to clean up before he realized that he didn’t have the motivation to do it. He let himself forget about not having curtains, not having a way out, or not having friends. 

He heaved a deep, dark sigh and closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he decided that he _was_ motivated enough to change out of his clothing- transforming from a business mogul into a comfortable looking young man- baggy tee and sweatpants with paint splatter tacked onto his burdened back. He then collapsed on his bed once more and took to examining his nails. The paint was chipping, and though he didn’t pick at them, there just wasn’t something right about them. Maybe there was a streak in the dark paint, or one of his cuticles had grown too far, or his hands were shaking a bit too much.

There wasn’t anything right in the first place. 

From his windowsill, he slid a metal nail file off the white wood and started to shape one of his nails, examining it with silken precision. He rubbed one of his eyes under his glasses and realizing he had rubbed some of his eyeliner off- did nothing. Nothing, except for wipe the heel of his palm on his pants, barely wiping the makeup off anyway. He then continued to pluck at his nails, only disturbed from the sudden noise in his otherwise quiet room- his ringtone. The piano seemed to come out of nowhere, though muffled from being _somewhere_ in his sheets. Ryan Guldemond’s voice echoed as Claude tried to find his device- and he rolled his eyes back into his skull at his far too laborious attempt to find it- before checking the caller ID begrudgingly. His eyebrows raised in slight shock as he saw the name- “Sebastian Michaelis.” He silenced the sound and let it ring, rolling on his side and continuing to examine his hands. This was _his_ time off. He wanted to be alone. Probably; at least. He figured he wanted to be alone. He had been surrounded all week by employees, ringing phones, clacking keys, and, of course, _Alois_. The righteous answer- the regular answer- the regal answer- would be to want to be alone.

Yet somehow in his head, things didn’t seem to want to line up nice and easy. Somehow he was alone all of the time- and then again, sometimes he was surrounded by a mob. He almost couldn’t tell if he was feeling anything, whether air or fingers on his back. It was disjointed- it was an ajar door, missing some hinges. A broken flower pot, a root spilling out, a leaf in a puddle. And while this chaotic chalkboard scratching cracked and creaked in his mind, he… didn’t care.

Things didn’t really matter anymore. 

Things got lost in the fray. 

Things got lost like emotions. 

Now it was the weekend, though, and he didn’t have to _worry_ about all of that. He didn’t have to worry about a concerned smile or a concerned glance or concern at all- and he could just stop caring.

Not like he had ever started in the first place, though.

He stared at the door across his room absentmindedly, just thinking. until he heard the ringtone again. Sitting up abruptly due to sudden annoyance, he grabbed his phone and considered declining. There was no reason to answer. There was no reason for him to entreat the annoyance who called himself Sebastian, or to stoop to such a level to answer his nagging phone calls. The phone rang until the call was put to voicemail.

Claude had only a moment to close his eyes before his ringtone started again. _He just wanted to take a nap. That was all. He didn’t care what Michaelis had to say. He did not give one single, sparkling, striking, shit._

But he knew it would never, ever end.

So, fuck it, he thought.

“...this is Claude Faustus.” 

“Good, I’ve reached you.” The voice purred from the other end- and Claude felt his insides wretch at the thought of the smug smile that must be plastered upon the other’s face just then.

“What do you want, Sebastian Michaelis?”

A man for whom he felt nothing but annoyance. Their bosses were rivals- and as such they would often be competing against each other. Spiting each other- or doing something or other to…do whatever. It became a blur for Claude- because he had never really cared about why he might be doing something unless it directly affected him. So, when Claude had something to do, and Michaelis got in his way, he felt it was right of him to feel _irritated_ towards the man. Especially now. He didn’t really know how Michaelis got his number- but he supposed it didn’t truly matter, because nothing really did anyway. He guessed.

“We must talk about your...” Michaelis cleared his throat. “...boss.”

“Do we?”

“Well- He’s... been encroaching on our property as of late.” 

Claude nearly felt his eyes pop out of his skull in annoyance. 

“And how is that my responsibility?”

“You’re his secretary. If Ciel was doing the same thing, I would be responsible for making it stop.”

“Okay... But...” Claude looked at his nails again. “I don’t care.”

“If he doesn’t stop, we will have to take legal action.”

“Is it that serious?”

“He’s defacing our building externally- hiring people to rifle through our documents- and being a general nuisance.”

Claude snorted, suppressing a chuckle. Perhaps he was not amused by Alois’s antics- no, never that, but he _did_ enjoy the thought of the Phantomhives squirming in their seats. As much as the rivalry between the two corporations didn’t really affect him, their pettiness could be some low-rate entertainment. And…well. Entertainment was entertainment.

“Details?”

“He…” Sebastian groaned. “It isn’t _that_ important-“

“No, no.”

“…He graffitied a penis on the side of our complex.”

“…He did? Himself?”

“Yes.”

“...that’s-“

“It isn’t funny. It’s crude and childish. He’s also responsible for the loss of several of our more important files, which is the real problem here.”

“...so... what should I do? And why should I care?”

“Does a lawsuit sound like a _fun time_ to you?”

“Why don’t you just drop it? He’s like, 12.”

In his head, he felt like Alois would smack him for saying that. He could almost hear the tinny cry of ‘I’m 14, so shut the fuck up.’ It was enough to make his eyebrow twitch.

“The two are around the same age- _Alois being the elder_ , and yet Ciel manages to uphold respect and general dignity for your property. Alois does not do the same, and you should convince him to stop.” 

“I should? But I mustn’t. I don’t have to.” Sebastian let out a slightly frustrated sigh on the other end of the phone. Claude let a smile twitch at the corner of his lips. “I’m just the secretary. That’s all. I take care of the papers, I bring my boss coffee. That’s all I’m there for. I don’t care about what petty matters go into the decisions there. It has no weight on me.”

“What if your payment was affected?”

“I... doubt it.”

“If the Trancy company goes through an extreme lawsuit that you will most _certainly_ lose... where does your weight come in then, Faustus?” 

Claude was silent for a moment. Feeling his irritation bubble, all he wanted was to get off of this call as soon as possible. Money was not something he knew _Michaelis_ was concerned about, but considering Alois and his particular tendencies…

“...fine, Michaelis. I’ll ask the young manager to stop. But I don’t guarantee any results. I have no debts to pay to you and you should not have expectations for success.”

“Very well, Faustus. Heed that this is a warning. Don’t let this happen again.” 

Claude was ready for the call to drop- but then he realized he had a question.

“Wait.”

“…Yes?”

“Why did you call _me?_ ”

Sebastian hung up on the other line, and Claude stared at his phone, blinking in confusion, before he tossed his phone next to him and laid back down, letting his figure be nearly consumed by his mattress. He closed his eyes tiredly and let out a ginger sigh through his nose, chest rising and falling with the breath. 

This was fine. 

Fuck it, anyway. 

Where did Sebastian get off on _anyway?_ They were both akin to babysitters, watching toddler tyrants fling their money off the Empire State. It was all pointless. Claude almost grumbled to himself as he curled up on his side, arms wrapping around a large pillow that was shoved into the corner of his wall on his bed.

Before he knew it, he was asleep.

When he awoke, his body assailed him with thousands of mixed messages. Unclear, and chaotic- yet he merely laid there in place, the only light in the room being his fairy lights. It was dark, then- and he had a _crick_ in his neck that he _knew_ would only get worse- and he checked his phone and realized that it was 2 AM.

And that he had no notifications. No calls or texts.

Fine.

He rolled onto his back and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, tossing his glasses onto his nightstand (he hoped they weren’t broken, because _that_ would be a pain in the ass to deal with). He let his body wake up fully before he stood, stumbling a bit as he walked over to his tarantula’s enclosures. He yawned and stretched his arms out in front of him before taking care of them- simply misting them down was enough. He then headed out into his den, holding his hair back from his face as he looked around the room, making a mental list of tasks he needed to accomplish.

            Clean the coffee table.

            Take a shower.

            Make some dinner- or get some food. Or, whatever.

            Brood, probably.

Looking at his coffee table, he realized it was in less disarray than he thought it would be. All he really had to do was clean the tea cups that littered the top, put the books away, stack the coasters, wipe the surface… He felt his will to live escape his body- his soul _swhoomp_ out of the top of his spine. He grunted as he flopped down on the couch, hands numb and tired as he brushed the cups to one side, and books to the other.

His neck was bothering him.

He gazed at the tea cups. They were pretty- all ceramic and white, with lacy, ornate designs that bordered the rim or the bottom or perhaps the middle circumference- but they weren’t really special. They were from Goodwill, after all- the best ones he could find when he went to browse. With a huff, he scooped them up into his arms like baby chicks and gently put them into the sink, figuring he _may as well_ do the dishes now, lest he lose motivation to do them later. He did them as quickly as he could, putting the clean ones in the drying rack away into his cabinets, and washing out the dirty ones to leave them to dry.

He then walked delicately back to his table and did the same with his books. He twitched an eyebrow as he put them back on his shelves, realizing how _much_ he resembled an emo teenager with his literature choices. But- he was accurate, and alphabetical. Poe went under P, Lovecraft went under L, and so on and so forth. And when he was done, he began the search for the Lysol wipes- which he never could seem to find. Under the sink? Too obvious. In a cabinet? Probably not. Tucked between the wall and the TV? Well…why would it be anywhere else, then?

After cleaning what he needed to, the man decided he would shower. So, he dragged himself into the bathroom and flicked the light on, closing the door behind himself with his heel. He stretched in front of the mirror perched above the sink, looking over his features. He didn’t notice the warm hue in his golden eyes, or the nice glint of light off his nose, or the way his eyebrows met the curve of his nose in harmony- but rather the darkness under his eyes, the smudged makeup, and the unhappy curve of his mouth.

He opened the mirror to reveal the medicine cabinet and focused on brushing his teeth instead. He pulled his clothes off while he did so, switching hands to get undressed- and when he had no hands- clamping down on the bristles with his back teeth to hold the brush in his mouth. He spit into the sink and washed the foam down quickly before tossing his toothbrush back into the cabinet and getting into the shower, turning the water _all_ the way hot.

And then, he just stood there.

He stood.

There.

And didn’t think that much.

He didn’t…really want to. He didn’t have to. So, he didn’t. Thoughts thought themselves and so, he needn’t try. Noises weren’t heard- but thought. Sights weren’t seen- but thought. So, he could stare off into space (again) and just let the world happen around him. Just let the world knock on his door to no avail, tap on his window for no response- let Sebastian Michaelis call him _all he wanted_ because he wouldn’t be answering again.

Was he thinking about Sebastian Michaelis?

He made himself stop. He was just annoyed, and that was simply all.

Annoyed by the one…falsely, perhaps, yet normal… interaction that day.

Perhaps.

Reality was just a little bit disjointed for Claude Faustus. He saw double. Quadruple. It was like he had eight eyes, or maybe only one- or maybe his eyes weren’t on his face, but on his hands and legs. Maybe on the back of his neck. His teeth could have eyes littering their surfaces like cavities- and maybe his heart was made of irises and pupils. Maybe he was just one big eye, seeing and observing- but unfeeling and unthinking. Blinking to get the dust out, perhaps shedding a tear, but certainly never in front of anyone else.

He didn’t truly feel like he was inside of his body, sometimes- and that maybe there was a little spider in his head that moved his arms for him, like a puppet. To test it, he held his arm straight out, looking at it. Long arm, long fingers, long scars, long marks, long reach, a long time.

He shook his head in disbelief and snorted, an incredulous smile dancing on his face. That was _obviously_ not going to prove anything. And there definitely was not a spider in his head. Just a brain.

He shook his head again to be certain.

After absentmindedly cleaning himself, he emerged from his shower the same as before. He stretched on the couch lavishly and collected his phone, surprised to see a message.

It was from Sebastian. How unexpected.

_And it was 2:30 AM._

Claude swiped to read the message.

_“Are you going to talk to Trancy Monday?”_

Claude responded, shaking his head. _“Sometime”_ He was surprised when he got an answer almost right away.

 _“Thank you.”_ He wasn’t sure if he should comment. Tentatively, he sent him a question.

_“Why didn’t you answer me earlier”_

No response for a minute. Claude hoped he wouldn’t play dumb- but he wasn’t anxious and he wasn’t dependent, so instead, he went to get dressed. After, he returned to his phone, surprised to see an answer.

_“I thought it would be easiest that way. Contacting a lawyer should be a last resort, so this was the first step, and that’s all.”_

“Bitch…” Claude mumbled as he shook his head.

_“I find that hard to believe”_

_“Why?”_

_“I’m surprised you wouldn’t jump on the first opportunity to sue Trancy, especially since you have concrete proof that he did wrong, apparently”_

_“I believe in a fair fight with a worthy opponent. Unlike you. Trancy deserves, at the very least, a warning.”_

_“I call BS”_

_“You can call whatever you’d like.”_ Claude groaned and rolled his eyes. How insufferable. He decided to just not answer, throwing down his phone in order to make some food. He decided leftovers were enough. As he ate at the counter, he noticed his phone light up- another message, he guessed. He grabbed his phone, sipping at some water, as he read the message.

_“I expected you to see that original message in the morning. Why are you awake at this hour?”_

_“I don’t have work this weekend. I could ask you the same question”_

_“I’m currently working.”_

_“It’s almost three AM”_

_“And?”_ And then a moment later, _“Speaking of work, I must get back to it. Goodbye.”_

_“Bye”_

Claude tossed his phone back on his couch as he finished eating. His mind still ran with thoughts of spiders and teeth and eyes, yet less so. A bit alleviated by the distraction known as Sebastian, Claude finished his food in silence before retiring back to his room.

He knew he would lay all night in silence, staring at the dark ceiling, or his lights, or the glare on the tanks across the room. He would let his mind quell and swell until he was rocked by the waves into slumber- hopefully. He would maybe twitch. No tears. No screaming. Just silence, as it always was. It was harder to wrench his mouth open than slam it shut, and he preferred that way. He could hold his breath as long as he wanted.

But, he was drowning for this. Drowning in his ennui. In that silence.


	2. ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> don't worry about it so much
> 
> cont;

[x](https://loopvideos.com/qkgbYQRL2fs)

Through the weekend, Claude hadn’t really done much. He focused on reading and relaxing- playing a bit of his violin here and there, maybe painting, and most definitely dreading Monday. 

As, of course, any sane human does. 

Monday rolled around like a steam train; and Claude was caught in the smog. Thick and heavy sleep bore down on him that morning as his shrill alarm assailed his ears- and he couldn’t find a single

motive

to stand. 

But he pushed himself up anyway and prepared for the day in exhaustion, making himself look presentable. It was this part of the day that wore most heavily on his nerves- to look coherent was to be coherent, of course- and so he had to be the esteemed image of classical beauty. 

So when he spend 10 minutes more on his eyeliner that morning than he should, he was internally capsizing. His schedule was out of control at that point in his mind- it was off the tracks, never to be righted until he would quickly finish what he needed. 

He was fine if he skipped breakfast anyway. 

When he managed to right himself to his mind’s expectation, he was immediately out of the door, sliding into his black 1994 Honda Accord and pulling out of the apartment complex’s parking lot. It was a very short drive to work for him- only around 7 minutes on a good day. 

This, of course, was not a good day. 

Traffic was a pest- angry drivers a fatal catalyst. He sunk back in his seat and stared at the car in front of him as he pleaded to whatever could listen for them to just _go. Just go. Just go. Just go. **Just go.**_

Of course, eventually they went- and Claude wasn’t angry, but he was most certainly aggravated. And- late.

He convinced himself that this morning’s wrongdoings were because of Sebastian Michaelis. The crow had laid some sort of curse on him with his caw, and now Claude was doomed to a horrid day. The ‘Crows Curse’ as it were.

He knew that would not change as soon as he entered Trancy Corporation. 

When he entered the elevator, it was completely silent. Surprisingly nice- and surprisingly horrendous. 

His ears seemed to fill in the empty gaps with the banging of piano keys and the distortion of gentle voices, and he couldn’t tell why. It was cacophonous and grating, and all he could do was stand in place like a wooden soldier. He stared at the doors as he waited for the car to rise to the top of the building, hoping it would get there faster so he could stop ignoring (stop imagining?) the _wretched noises that would not just shut their dirty fucking mouths-_

 

The elevator doors opened, and Claude took a breath before stepping out. Calm, and unaffected- just as he should be. He walked past the usual toy models on display, eyes straight ahead as he headed to his office, which was (to his dismay) conveniently conjoined with the young Trancy’s (to bother Claude whenever he pleased- Claude was sure of that much). 

Claude opened the door quietly and stepped in, setting his belongings on his desk before falling in his chair, spinning around idly once, and stopping before the window just to stare out of it. He had rehearsed what he would say to the young Trancy many times, but considering the unpredictability of his boss, he wasn’t truly sure how he would respond. 

He dwelled for a few more moments before standing up with a deep breath. 

Fuck it. 

He knocked on his superior’s door and then entered, seeing the young man sitting on his desk, looking carefully at a (probably insignificant) piece of paper. He whipped his head around suddenly, icy eyes piercing directly into Claude’s. 

“Claaaaude! Good morning! How was your weekend!” Alois cooed with a sunshine smile, tilting his head happily. 

“It was pleasant, Mr. Trancy.”

“That’s excellent! Tell me what you did.”

“Well, I-“

“Oh! Did anything important happen?”

Claude gently smacked his lips upon the interruption. It didn’t really matter anyway. 

“Well... yes, Mr. Trancy.” 

“Oh? What happened?” His voice suddenly grew darker. Claude had a feeling he knew that something was transpiring- as if Alois could see the darkening clouds- the proverbial foreshadowing.

“I was informed of a potential lawsuit... against you, Mr. Trancy. By the Phantomhives.” 

The room was silent for a moment as Alois absorbed the information, looking at the tile blankly before the same bright smile laced his cheeks. Claude, however- was not fooled- he saw the knit in his brow, and the wily look in his eyes. He felt the anger radiating from him- he had been offended by this notion.

“By... the Phantomhives? On what grounds?”

“Vandalization and theft.” 

Alois was silent again as he thought, biting his lip pensively and launching himself off the desk with the grace of a cat. He spun on the balls of his feet for a moment and then hopped over to Claude, fingers under his lapels, pulling him down to his height. 

“You’re going to fix it.”

“Of course I am. What course of action do you suggest, Mr. Trancy?”

Uncomfortable. Yet, not shown.

“...let’s stop the lawsuit from being able to happen. Destroy any proof they have. Kill this thing while it still grows. Mmkay?” Alois gave him a cheery grin, yet Claude could still feel the residual anger in his fingers- which still burned into his suit like venom. 

“Yes, Mr. Trancy. ...might I ask you something?”

“Of course!” Alois spun away and opened a ledger from a shelf that was across the room- almost doing it for show, it seemed. 

“What would you have done to... cause this situation?” He knew this answer, but he wanted to test-

“Claude!” He slammed the ledger onto his desk suddenly, and upon not receiving a rise out of his secretary, stamped his heel down stubbornly. “I did nothing!”

“...I understand, Mr. Trancy.” Welp.

“No- no, you’ve doubted me. You can _leave,_ Claude Faustus.”

Claude took the hint and closed the door gently on his way out, huffing as he sat at his desk once more. That... did not happen as he wanted it to. He sighed and sat back and thought for a moment of his plans. He wanted to avoid the lawsuit at all costs- his paycheck was far more important than this dramatic mess. So then- he had to make Alois stop. Claude could tell that he could not make him willingly cease- perhaps he would have to prevent the events from happening again. Which meant...

He groaned, irritated, and picked up his phone on his desk before dialing Michaelis’s number. 

The phone rang a few times before the receiver was picked up. 

“Sebastian Michaelis.”

“Hello.”

“Faustus? Why are you calling?”

“Uh... problem.”

“How eloquent.”

“Tch...” Claude rolled his eyes. He hoped they wouldn’t get stuck back there. “Can we schedule some place to talk? I’m sick of doing this over the phone. We have some…things…to discuss.

“Sure. Why don’t we meet somewhere tonight?”

“Sounds fine.”

After scheduling the time and place, the two ended the call. Claude then went about his day, doing paperwork, getting coffee. 

Doing paperwork, getting coffee. 

Doing fucking paperwork, getting fucking coffee. 

He ran out of Advil by the end of the day and had to ask Hannah for some. 

As soon as he walked out of the door, he was practically in his car with the doors locked, ready to get _out_ of there. Alois’s decided punishment for Claude appeared to be forced menial labor- causing Claude to crawl out of his skin in exasperation.

And then, he was filled with dread as he pulled up to the café he and Sebastian had agreed on, finding a quiet table in a dark corner to wait for the other man. As he waited, he felt his leg begin to bounce as if a spring. He scrolled through his (dry) phone tiredly, resting his elbow on the table, cradling his chin with his hand. 

Before long, Sebastian was sitting across from him. Claude set his phone down and sat up straight, looking at the other man. He looked well- perhaps not as tired as Claude felt. Bright eyes, not bleary- well kempt hair.

“Faustus.”

“Michaelis.”

“What’s the _issue_?”

Claude sighed. Direct to the point. “Alois... doesn’t want to comply.”

“Is that all you dragged me here to tell me? Of course, he’s not going to want to comply. He’s going to want to keep doing what he’s doing. That’s how he is. ...you know.” Sebastian’s eyebrow twitched in his apparent vexation. 

“While that’s true, Michaelis, I don’t want to deal with that threat of yours. So, there has to be another solution.” 

“Oh?”

“I cannot stop Alois from doing what he wants. My paycheck is more important,” Sebastian scoffed- Claude scowled. “...than a silly fight. So, instead of making him stop, we just prevent his actions from bearing fruit.”

“How do you suppose we do that?”

“Information exchange.”

“...How disloyal.”

“On the contrary- if I give you information about Alois’s plans, you can prevent the thefts from occurring again. At least, hopefully. That way, the company doesn’t fall to ruin. I see it as a beneficial step.”

“You’re basically giving your competition information, so we won’t sue you.”

“Yep.” When seeing the blank look on Sebastian’s face, Claude shrugged slightly. “I don’t care.”

“Well then. ...I guess that means more frequent visits between the two of us.”

“That’s the worst part.” Claude smirked a bit. 

“Oh, you’re such a gentleman.” Sebastian closed his eyes and smiled gently. Claude only hummed a response, leg still shaking. He almost wanted to put a hand down to stop it, but he didn’t know if that would do anything. 

He realized it was going the same pace as his heart. It wasn’t so often that he spoke to someone so... like him, and yet so different. Perhaps he was a bit nervous by the exchange. It made sense, after all- his paycheck rode on this. 

“I have a request.” Claude said, breaking the silence he didn’t realize was there. 

“Oh?”

Claude had a bit of an idea. “Since we’re both here, why don’t I tell you what I know over some food?” He proposed. 

“That’s fine by me.” Sebastian nodded slightly as Claude slid out of his seat, adjusting his glasses as he went to look at the menu. Sebastian did the same.

Claude felt like a doctor- he would diagnose his own nerves. He didn’t just want to chalk it up to anxiety over his income- he knew there was something else there. He was slightly curious about his own human science experiment.

“I think I’m just going to get a panini...” Claude mused mostly to himself before stepping into the line- Sebastian following quietly. It was a short wait before they ordered- Claude a panini, and Sebastian a sandwich and soup- and then payment.  Standing off to the side, underneath the pick-up sign, Claude still could not settle his leg. 

Sebastian broke the silence, looking down at the ground- or- as Claude saw- at his leg. Eugh. 

“So... how was your day?” Sebastian spoke gently and looked back up towards his face. 

“Oh- uh...” He thought for a moment, twisting his mouth slightly. “I-I’m... I’m bad at small talk-” Claude admitted, feeling a wave of heat on the back of his neck.

“I just asked how your day was.” Sebastian furrowed his brow critically. Claude felt his anxiety shoot through the roof. He hoped it would manifest into a bunch of spiders and rain down on all of them- eating everyone alive so he did not have to experience 

this.

“My day? ...the same as always.” Claude felt relief at the answer. Finally, this question was dead. 

“Oh? And how’s that?” Please, no. 

“Well- how about you guess?” Claude suggested, looking down at his nails before glancing up at the other. (That was stupid, Claude. You sound like you’re trying to play a mind game.) Sebastian looked slightly surprised, mouth opening a bit and eyebrows raising. 

“Oh. Well...” Sebastian began, sliding next to Claude and staring out of the window at an old woman feeding pigeons on a bench. “You work for the Trancy brat... so... that’s an automatic negative. I’m sure, at least... and... well. You’re you. So, that’s pretty sad.” Sebastian crossed his arms and smiled to himself, internally scowling as the pigeons were chased away by a dog off its leash, causing the old woman to recoil. Poor dear. “So... wretched.”

Claude was silent for a moment. 

“Damn, Michaelis. Nice.”

“I got it?”

“Pretty much. You don’t get a prize.”  

“I wouldn’t want it anyway. Your hands are probably filthy.”

Claude breathed the slightest sign of amusement. “That’s fine.”

The bell behind them rung, their food served on a single tray. Sebastian picked it up with one hand- Claude carried their drinks in two, and they sat back down at the table they had previously left. Claude slid him his drink and sipped his own. Strawberry Fanta. 

“And... your day?” Claude tentatively asked, pulling off from the straw for a second. 

“Busy. Long. All in a day’s work.” Sebastian answered nearly dismissively, piquing Claude’s (ever waning) curiosity. 

“You worked a long time last Friday. Until 3 AM? What does the Phantomhive have you do?”

“Everything.” Michaelis answered soundly, concretely- with certainty. “I clean, I make him lunches, sometimes dinners, I bring loads of shipments in, clean the facility-”

“Jeez! Why?”

“He sees all his other “servants” as incapable.” He mockingly gestured. 

“Eugh... that... sucks.” Claude bit his tongue, his leg beginning to shake again. His heart felt like it would burst out of his chest. He perhaps felt a bit bad for the other.

Fucking Sebastian Michaelis. He was probably why this was happening. It was the Crow’s Curse once more.

“So about this information...” 

The information Claude _didn’t_ have- that he’d lied about to get dinner with Sebastian. To test his theory, of course. Of the curse.

“Right. Well...” Claude played with the tabs on top of his cup, pushing the ridges down with a pop. “I don’t know any of the people he hires personally. I don’t know what they might look like, but occasionally, people are brought up to his office. They do sign in, and I have access to that ledger. So... I can get their names, contact information, etcetera... most likely. I can just pass all that information onto you. And... maybe a physical description. I might be able to get a picture with the security camera.”

“So... you don’t have anything yet?”

“Well, I don’t know which people were there. I haven’t seen your apparent proof.”

“Hm...” Sebastian sipped his soup a bit, glancing off to the side as he thought. “I would like to find these people... and prevent them from coming back onto the property. That _is_ a problem. The tapes aren’t really clear enough to see.”

“Well, I could still look. But- what I want to know is how you know that Trancy hired these people.”

“We got a confession out of one that was caught. It only makes sense for the rest, correct?”

“Sure.” 

They sat in silence for a moment, Claude playing with the toothpick that came with his sandwich. Sebastian watched. 

“Do... you want to see it?” Sebastian put his hands on the table gingerly. Claude noticed, trying not to look at their delicate form.

“See what?”

“The tapes.”

“The proof? Sure. I don’t care.” Claude shrugged, crinkling the colorful material at the end of the toothpick. Another bit of silence. 

“Do... do you just... play with your food? Do you... eat it? Like a normal-” Sebastian stared at his hands, confused expression plastered on his face. Claude looked at him. 

“What?”

“You’ve been... playing with your food for 5 minutes now.” 

“I’m playing with the toothpick, excuse you.”

“That’s-”

“Not the same thing.” He stabbed the toothpick back into the sandwich decisively. “I might just box it up and take it home.” Claude couldn’t help but give a little smirk. 

Sebastian was a little dumbfounded, but he dropped the subject. “Well... if you wanted to see the tapes...” A pause. “You’d need to come over to my home, then.” 

Claude felt his body wither away. He died. He actually died. 

“Uh... what?!”

“Well, I’m not just going to give you the tapes! And I’m not bringing you to the Phantomhive building. And I’m _not_ going to your home to watch them. So, you’ll come to mine.” 

“Can’t you just make a copy?”

“It would take a while. Our system still runs on tapes, unfortunately- and it’s converted in real time to a DVD. So... a 2 hour tape would take 2 hours of conversion. And there are multiple. Plus, I have a VCR.”

Claude scoffed. “Quaint.” Sebastian glared. 

“Anyway. We can go anytime.” 

Claude poked at his food a bit with the toothpick once more. He felt his soul evaporating more and more by the second. He decided he would repeat a mantra to himself like a monk to keep himself focused. The words seemed to seep out of the cracks in the walls, out of the salt and pepper shakers, out of the holes in his sandwich. 

I hate Sebastian Michaelis. 

I hate Sebastian Michaelis. (this isn’t working)

I hate Sebastian Michaelis. 

“I hate Seb...hhuh-” Claude mumbled to himself. Sebastian leaned down to attempt to make eye contact with him. 

“Faustus? Are you quite alright?” Claude stared into nothingness, and with a jolt (like a bolt of lightning) he sat up straight and looked at the other- looked into his eyes. He almost felt himself staring again, the red reminding him of paint on his palette, or noon-time strawberries, or-

“Yes. I was thinking of my answer.” He forced his glance to the table.

“And that would be...?”

“I’ll go over.” Claude nodded and stood as he spoke, leaning against the counter as he asked for a box. He then packed his food away into the black Styrofoam container and stood next to Sebastian, who had risen. “I drove.”

“I walked. Would you mind...?”

“Nope.” Claude took a breath and stepped out of the door, the jangle of the bell ringing behind them as he walked over to his car. 

“This thing looks like it’s going to fall apart.” Sebastian smirked smarmily, opening the passenger door after Claude hopped into the driver’s seat. 

“Better. With you in it.” Claude grumbled as he put the key into the ignition. The teasing wasn’t _that_ unwelcome anymore, much to his chagrin. The old woman still sat outside of the café, feeding her pigeons. Claude almost considered honking but decided not to. That would be mean. Not that he really cared, but perhaps Sebastian would.

Oh no.

He was thinking of what Sebastian may or may not-

“Ready?” He interrupted himself.

“Yes.” Sebastian answered with a polite smile, telling him to drive to the Phantomhive’s complex so he could pick up the tapes- and then to wait until he got back. 

Which Claude did. 

He sat in the car outside, hands still on the wheel, in silence. It was then that he realized he was incredibly tense, unreasonably stressed, and emotionally exhausted. He did not understand why Sebastian Michaelis was _doing this_ , but he _hated_ it. 

But he couldn’t for long, he supposed. 

He admitted to himself that he liked the others smile. The nervous glances. The sharp eyes and tongue- the soft hands- the nitpicks. 

Claude Faustus slammed his head on the driver’s wheel- causing the car to honk. He didn’t care about the birds that flew away in fear, or the people who jumped from being startled, or the pain on his forehead. 

He tipped his head back and groaned, rubbing his face tiredly. 

Fuck it.

He had a crush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i based a lot of claude's disassociation off of my own


	3. iii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there's the sunset ahead

[x](https://loopvideos.com/L2xfP8o38C8)

The questions racing through Claude’s mind felt feverish and loud- questions of why? And how? And why him? And why him _?_ And _why_ - 

And he lost track of the amount of times he pictured Sebastian’s soft face in his mind, soft smile, ~~soft~~ sharp glare. He was staring out of the car, sitting in the driver’s seat, having a _crisis_ because of his crush on stupid Sebastian Michaelis. 

He supposed it hadn’t started that day, because he wasn’t the type to look at someone and fall in love instantaneously. At least, he hoped that wasn’t the case. He had obviously seen the crow before: and putting his feelings at the time into context, he supposed it had been gradual. The anxiety at every encounter, the digs in order to get a rise out of the other- to make an impact.

He didn’t really _know_ Sebastian- he just knew of his snide remarks and taunts, yet somehow that impelled him further into the mystery of the man. 

He needed to know. More- everything- something tangible. Something that either made this a poorly wired shock or a humming current. Figment or reality. 

He was staring into the void when he heard the knock on his window, jumping nearly a mile high from his sudden awakening. He looked: Sebastian was hunched by the window, gesturing for him to unlock the car. He did so and watched as the other slid into the shotgun seat, holding a large plastic bag, bulging sharply and strangely. 

“I have them. I’ll tell you how to get to my house.” Sebastian smiled in that kind-yet-derisive way that he always affronted when with Claude- and Claude _knew_ he was staring at his mouth, trying to pick out a single piece of the puzzle from betwixt his lips. He could almost imagine him speaking- his name, wonderfully, softly, loudly, however-

“Claude Faustus!” 

He shook his head and looked up, meeting Sebastian’s gaze. 

“...are... you feeling alright?”

“...yeah.” Claude finally breathed out, returning his attention to starting up the ignition. 

“...no distracted driving, thank you.”

“You mean you don’t want to get in a car accident?” Claude smirked at him playfully, eyebrow raising slightly.

Sebastian only met him with a glare, but he could see the residual smile underneath. 

Claude reached over to his radio- a newly replaced one in his shabby car- and turned the volume all the way up, followed by the bass. 

“...what are you-“ Sebastian leapt back in his seat as Claude turned on his music. It was, of course, Africa by Toto. There was no other option. The car shook as he drove out of the parking lot, making the unhappy noises it always did. 

“Turn it the fuck down!” Sebastian yelped, reaching for the volume. Claude flicked his hand away gently, mouthing the words mockingly at him. “I’m _going_ to kill you!” Sebastian shouted, undermined by the laughs he was attempting to barricade off. 

Claude soared down the street, following Sebastian’s embarrassed points in the correct directions- Claude couldn’t hear him anyway. 

They skidded to a stop in front of Sebastian’s home, and Claude turned the ignition off promptly, ending the cacophonous noise. 

“Okay. We’re here.” He looked over at Sebastian, curled up in the seat and glaring at him as if he’d just murdered his first-born. 

“Why... are you like this.”

“You have a nice home.” Claude remarked, playing rather dumb. It was true, however. It was a single story with a space for a garden out front. He could see the small blooms of spring beginning to poke her head out of the newly laid mulch- and nearby stood a large oak tree, leaves just beginning to turn green. Claude stepped out of the car, noticing the petite organization of everything- where the trash cans went, where the gardening supplies went- everything seemed to have a place and a time. 

“Thanks...” Sebastian remarked, getting out with a stretch, holding the bag of tapes. He closed the car door behind him and walked up to his side door, unlocking it with a key from a black lanyard. Claude followed behind him as they walked inside- immediately greeted with a chorus of meows. 

“Yes, I’m home!” Sebastian cooed, sliding off his shoes and walking forth, exiting from the mudroom into what seemed to be the kitchen. Claude followed his example and stepped through, watching as Sebastian set down the sack and promptly picked up a fat, black cat, like it was a baby. Claude couldn’t help but to appreciate the happiness on his face as he scratched the cat’s ears and cheeks as it rubbed against him happily. Sebastian was a doting father to the furry blob.

“This is Jiji,” Sebastian stated, turning around to face Claude- and pointing down at his ankles, gestured to a fluffy gray cat, smaller than ‘Jiji’. “And this is Soot. I have a third named Sprite- he’s probably laying in my room.” He gently let Jiji down, picking the bag up from the floor. Sebastian then walked into his living room. 

“I’m going to get changed out of my suit. I’ll be right back,” he noted, setting the bag down once more before sliding down a hallway. 

It was nicely furnished- a matching black leather couch and loveseat made an arc around a dark wood coffee table, perched in front of a tv console, the tv inside a flat screen and seemingly new. Ornate lamps decorated either end of the couches- unlit. Windows streamed in the welcoming spring daylight, large, with white paneling. It was bright, yet soft. Like a smile, gazing down from the clouds.

Claude sat on the loveseat, feeling uncomfortable. He felt out of place, disjointed, like an elephant among mice, or a fly among spiders, or- 

A mismatched puzzle piece. 

He took to looking at his nails once more when he heard a small noise next to him, and glancing, he saw that one of the cats had leapt up to rub against his arm. It was the black one- Jiji, as she was called. Claude smiled softly and pet her head to tail, then scratched her ears, receiving warm purrs. Claude pet the cat for a few moments before glancing over at the hall- noticing Sebastian standing there, staring. 

Sebastian quickly sat down on the other couch, now in a comfortable top and jeans. “I-uh. Jiji...likes you, doesn’t she?” 

“Seems to.” Claude continued to pet the cat idly while he spoke. “Very sweet...”

“She’s a good girl.” Sebastian smiled to himself as he took the tapes out from the bag, laying them out. There were probably around 5 or 6- and taking the first one, Sebastian stood and opened a door in the console to reveal a VCR. He set up everything necessary and began to play the tape, sitting back down on the couch.

“So, here it is. The first incident with Trancy.”

Claude watched the video: Alois Trancy, plain as day, walked up to the side of the Phantomhive’s building, cradling a can of spray paint like a gun. He seemed to be shaking it and dancing to the clacking noises it made, kicking his heels out, though no sound was heard on the tape. He then spray painted, in black, a penis on the side of the building with a flick of his wrist.

“That makes me want to die,” Claude scoffed, shaking his head, earning a laugh out of Sebastian. “What the hell, Trancy...” He sighed in disbelief, blinking at the video. 

And then Alois just kept going. 

“You know what, I changed my mind. Sue him.” Sebastian looked over in confusion. Claude had an astonished smile on his face, and he simply shook his head once more. “I’m kidding, but…I hate him so much...”

“That’s fair.” Sebastian looked back to the screen. 

Claude turned to him, ignoring the tape. He could care less anymore. He was more focused on Sebastian- not desperate, of course- but curious. “Do you... feel the same way about Phantomhive?”

Sebastian was silent for a moment, before turning to face him. “What do you mean?”

“Do you hate him?”

“...hm. I don’t think I do...” Sebastian looked to the side, thinking for a moment. The silence was punctuated by the heavy footfalls of Jiji as she dropped off the couch and waddled to her food dish in the mudroom. “He’s... a bit overbearing. A brat. Annoying, certainly. He overworks me, but... I don’t mind most of the time, really. He has an impressive drive, and he really is quite smart for a child. And... that’s maybe why I don’t hate him. He _is_ just a kid, put into an unfair situation. I relate with that.” Sebastian pondered, sitting up straight, facing Faustus. 

“That... being said...” Claude began, “that doesn’t give him an excuse to overwork you.” 

“I suppose not…” Sebastian sighed through his nose, closing his eyes. “But… why do you care? It doesn’t really affect you, does it?” 

Claude felt like he had been shot. 

“Uhm- I... I don’t think anyone should be overworked to the point you seem to be. Anyone. Everyone. It applies to all- not just-uh. You-” Claude began to stammer, feeling the back of his neck begin to heat up, and his leg wanted to shake once more, but he made sure it was tucked under his thigh.

“Seems out of character for you, Claude. You…often say how you don’t care about things that don’t impact you.”

“Well, maybe this _does-_ ” Shit. Shit. Shit.

“I don’t see how-”

“Just, never mind.” Sebastian looked at him in surprise at being interrupted in that way.

“…well. Excuse me.”

Claude bit his lip and looked away. He could feel his insides churning. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to vomit, scream, or simply die. He of course, showed nothing on his shell. He physically felt like he couldn’t.

“…sorry.” He spoke quietly, managing to furrow his eyebrows sympathetically, keeping his gaze tethered away.

“It’s quite alright. I’m accustomed to it.”

“I’ll try not to do that again.” Claude stated blankly, still staring at a particular pattern on the rug covering the floor under the table. There was silence for a moment, before Sebastian spoke up, sounding surprisingly soft.

“Thank you, Claude.” Claude nodded monotonously, feeling his neck heat up once more, his heart thudding in his ears.

He felt like an _asshole_ for that. Usually, he would have just shrugged it off, and continued with his train of thought, but “accustomed” stuck out like a sore thumb to him and it was jammed into his ribs, feeding into his spine. It was the bright patch of color on a wall being newly painted, the red tulip amongst all the yellow- the labored sigh of the fly in the web, of being used to it. And- to Claude- that felt incredibly _unfair_. To be used to being the doormat’s roommate made him feel…well.

Feel bad. For Sebastian, that is. Before he knew it, he was speaking up.

“When… you say ‘accustomed’, what do you mean?”

He could feel the discomfort in the room become tangible. This was _personal_ and Claude was a _stranger_ and he did not _deserve_ an answer-

“Well…I just mean that I get interrupted a lot. A bit looked over. I mean, I am just a secretary at work, but…it happens often, even outside. I would agree that I’m hard to ignore sometimes, especially appearance-wise. Apparently.” Sebastian looked to the side, almost nervously. “I…don’t want to sound pretentious, of course, but people sometimes throw themselves at me. It’s…all for appearances. And so, they interrupt my work, or they talk over me, because they have something more important to say about the topic at hand. Mr. Phantomhive is a large culprit of this, of course, and I never can really…correct people about the matter. When I have something to do or to communicate…I just…want to do it, you know?” Sebastian looked to Claude for confirmation, who nodded. “Sorry…for the tangent.”

“You’re fine.” Claude blinked, shifting a bit. “I know we don’t necessarily get along, Sebastian, but… you shouldn’t be made to feel like that. Your work…is important, even if it clashes with mine occasionally. Besides, there isn’t a real reason for our bickering other than our respective workplaces…”

“And that you’re an asshole.” Sebastian teased, tilting his head cockily. “But…” And softening, “Thank you. It’s… nice to know that you care.”

Claude felt like he would implode on the spot. He knew he was probably blushing, probably shaking, probably looking like a _fucking tomato_ -

“Speaking of work,” Sebastian chimed, standing up, “Next tape?”

“Sure…” Claude spoke almost numbly. He didn’t care about the tapes. He was more focused on his impending doom- of death by embarrassment. Sebastian was not only, of course, very physically attractive- but the sharing of something that made him vulnerable spoke lengths to Claude- _because not even he could do that shit!_ And it sounded sappy or whatever- but he was finding an appreciation for that. There was, no matter how slight, a level of trust. A way in. A lowering of the barrier of guarded insults and disparaging remarks.

Now he felt like _he_ should share something. ‘What did you bring for the class, Claude?’ ‘Nothing but disassociation and ass, ma’am.’ He could almost hear it.

He awoke with the sound of Sebastian sitting back down on the bigger couch, leaning back against the cushions.

“This was the first incident. You…probably wouldn’t be able to tell who it is…” Sebastian’s voice seemed to fade out- again, he didn’t care about the tapes. He needed to _think_ , to plan a bit. There was a law in physics- every action has an equal and opposite reaction. With a crack in Sebastian’s chest, he’d have to open something of his own. Which thing was the question- there were several issues he could manage to open up about. There was the fact that he had never been in a relationship- not romantic, at least. Or, platonic for that matter. Sexual, maybe. He'd felt the burning of lust before, but perhaps not the slow agony of the waterboarding that was an intense crush. That invading loneliness- the treachery of his heart. He could talk about how this was the first time he’s done something like this, and that he felt like a fly on the wall listening in on how a friendship is supposed to work. Or- about his family (rather, the lack thereof). His history- why he was like this- and why he was just some average man who loathed the people who reared him. Maybe he could talk about his anxiety, the way his heart began to race when he was uncomfortable, or when he perceived it so- when perhaps there was nothing there at all. The thought of someone seeing his inner weaknesses- that sort of primal fear of destruction at the most sensitive point- the one he kept the most walls around. He could talk about his inability to properly express himself- the constant cold war fought between his tears and the movement in his face. How his muscle memory doesn’t account for a genuine smile or a genuine sob or a genuine anything anymore. How- he doesn’t want to, and how he can’t, and how he shouldn’t. Or- his lack of motivation. His sadness and loneliness and anger and betrayal and ennui and his inability to show any of it. Or, he could talk about the obvious: the-

“Claude…?” The soft voice sounded like a bell in his ear, hitting his skull like a gong and coursing down his vertebrae like a xylophone. “Claude, are…you okay? You’re staring at me.”

Claude looked up into Sebastian’s face, eyes feeling unclear. Maybe he was tired- he still hadn’t eaten that day- or maybe he was being hypnotized.

“Yeah.”

“You look really out of it. Are you sure?” Sebastian stood and walked closer. It felt like a wave of darkness over Claude, who sat back, almost ready to curl away into a shell. “Woah… hey, what’s going on?” He felt the soft pressure of Sebastian sitting next to him- the dip in the couch- and he slowly managed to sit up, casting his head away.

He guessed this was it.

Fuck it.

“I’m just…disoriented. That’s all.”

“Did something happen…?”

“It’s just…my head. That’s all. I get lost in my own thoughts…too deep down to even know what’s going on. It…kind of sucks? It feels like… I’m not in my body. Like I’m somewhere else, until I get called back or something.”

“That…sounds pretty nerve-wracking.” Sebastian said with concern, leaning forward to perhaps obtain a better, less obscured look at the other man. “How long has this been happening?”

“I don’t really know. It just sort of happens when it wants to. I stare into space a lot…I guess.” Claude felt the weight of everything buckle down on his back, and hunching over, he realized that a tear had slipped down his cheek. Sitting up and wiping it away with a disgusted expression, he looked at Sebastian, who was painted with wild confusion and concern.

“Are…you crying…?”

“I don’t think so,” Claude said coldly, staring at his fingers with contempt. “My eyes might just be tired…” Claude’s voice was led away from his body as he felt gentle, yet cold fingers press against his cheek and turn his face to the other’s. Sebastian cradled his cheek with practical ice, direct, concise, and close.

“You…look exhausted.” Claude didn’t know what to do. He felt panic, and anxiety, and sadness, and-

He did nothing but take a breath.

“Yeah…I didn’t sleep well, I guess.” Sebastian shook his head a bit, gnawing the inside of his bottom lip.

“That’s…not it. Is it?”

“…It’s just distressing. That’s all. I feel…lost in my head. Why wouldn’t that be scary…?”

“And you’re crying because of it.” Claude pursed his lips and tilted his chin inwards, giving Sebastian a dubious look.

“Mmh, I’m not doing that though.” Sebastian laughed softly, shaking his head.

“You are painfully unfunny…”

“Thanks, I do my best.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Sebastian grazing his knuckles against Claude’s cheek.

“Hey…Sebastian.” Claude began, looking away.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For…earlier. I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I- I didn’t mean it like that. I just feel like- I can…kind of-”

Interrupting Claude in the nicest of ways, Sebastian laid a gentle peck on his cheek, leaning forward only to fall back, dropping his hands on his ankles- legs now crossed.

“I know.”

Claude let out a wheeze, and Sebastian laughed- only slightly.

“The truth is, Claude, I’ve always wondered how you do it. How you keep that straight face and focused eyes…” He ran his thumb along his jaw sweetly, earnestly looking into his eyes. “Turns out…you’re just as big of a baby as I am.”

“Oh, I _am_ going to punch you-” Claude leaned forward a bit, Sebastian’s hands now flat and pressed against his chest, suppressing a giggle.

“Sure you are. Big baby-” Sebastian laughed fully, cheeks spreading into a smile. Claude couldn’t do much but be taken aback, eyebrows furrowed at the display in front of him.

“…I mean that thank you, though. I have _pwobwems-_ ” Claude wrinkled his nose and leaned back, letting go of Sebastian.

“Oh, I know you do. Who doesn’t nowadays?” Sebastian retorted, now deciding to lean against the other, legs curled up underneath him. Claude watched, heart racing faster than Roadrunner. His hands shook, throat closed up- and he knew what he had to do, but he was finding it _hard_ to focus when Sebastian smiled at him like that. So, he looked away before he spoke, steady voice ever so slightly fluctuating,

“Sebastian?”

“Yes?”

“I have…a question for you. A…bit of a confession.”

“Go ahead.”

Fuck it.

“I… don’t know how long things have been like this- I lose track of time so easily…but…I think I’ve liked you? For a while now? And like- because you’re…really quite attractive. And- fun to tease…and…you’re just…warm, I guess…I just-” He let out a sharp sigh and stared at the coffee table, face flushing bright pink. “I guess…I have a bit of a thing for you.”

“Oh, thank god. I already knew that.”

Claude heard the sound of glass smashing, of heels clacking, of water pouring, of whips cracking, of vases crashing, and sounds screaming- all at once in his head, as his eyes widened to the size of eggs.

“…you…knew?”

“Well, I’m not an idiot. It was pretty obvious- every time you looked at me you looked like you wanted to die- in the embarrassed way, that is.” He knocked slightly on Claude’s head, grinning like a mischievous cat. “Thank you for confessing, though. That…makes me happy.”

Claude looked at him weakly, a shuddering smile curling on the corner of his mouth.

“And…Claude?”

“Yeah…?”

Before another word was spoken, Sebastian pressed his lips against Claude’s- cold entreating the cold for a spat. Claude was taken aback- and reciprocated as considerately as he could, unused to the gentility of romance- rather the bite and bark of lust. They pressed against each other, exhibiting the greatest mercy of all- their kindness through their actions.

And once content, they pulled away from each other- Sebastian with the cleverest of small smiles, and Claude with the warmth of the sun on his cheeks.

“Not bad, Faustus.”

“Ditto, Michaelis. Ditto.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very uwu!!


	4. fin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by and by  
> by and by

[x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-tbJHihrQY4)

Circles don’t break easily. They want to continue to feed into themselves- champing at the bit and enclosing their secrets in their centers. To look at a circle- to look at a pattern- to look at repetition and expect it to suddenly shift- take a nosedive off the bow of the ship- is excessive. Perhaps a gentle guidance into a different shape or language will mark the lines into a new wave, but it will not be sharp. Neither sudden nor severe.

So, Claude Faustus still came home every Friday exhausted- his karmic Monday two weeks ago had not suddenly uprooted him from his place in the universe- yet internally, he seemed to run a bit smoother. With the restarting of his cogs, he had managed to grind some of the gunk out from between the gears, and with a bit of oil and tears, he was a bit clearer.

He trudged in the door that afternoon, thanking god for the weekend- and he promptly went to curl up in his bed, crawling under the sheets akin to a depraved river monster, missing its stream. He groaned as his body gave out into the memory foam mattress, letting his phone slip from his fingertips into the sheets. He laid there for a few minutes in weariness, feeling his spine settle and his ribs crack as he drew a breath in, before jumping in surprise at the sudden noise of his ringtone in his ear. He writhed out of the blankets before smacking his hand inelegantly into his device, clumsily putting it up to his ear as he answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” He smiled softly as he heard the voice on the other end- the soft, slightly snide voice of Sebastian Michaelis.

AKA, his boyfriend.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Work. I was calling because I know you get home at this time, and wanted to see how your day was.”

“Hm…guess.” Claude grinned as wide as an orange slice as he heard the annoyed sigh on the other end.

“Okay, bye then-”

“Hey! Wait.” Claude shouted through soft laughs, crossing one leg over the other as he lay. “You can’t go yet.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I haven’t answered you yet.”

“Okay, and what’s your answer?”

“…Well, it’s better now that you’re talking to me.” He grinned again, stretching his arm out in front of him.

“Oh, you fuck.”

“I’m a top, baby. That’s how we roll.”

“I- I’m hanging up on you. Choke in your sleep.”

“Will do. Hey- wait. How are you, though? You aren’t working overtime again, are you?”

“Well-”

“ _Are you?_ ” Sebastian heaved a sigh on the other end as Claude furrowed his brow, fixing his glasses slightly as he waited for his response.

“I…won’t today.”

“Good. We should hang out.”

“…I’d like that.”

“Do you want to come over here? I still have to introduce you to the boys.”

“The boys?”

“Yah. Rembrandt especially.”

“…huh?”

“My spiders?” Sebastian was silent for another moment.

“Hey, so I’m never actually coming over-” Claude laughed and closed his eyes.

“Mmh…so, just come over when you get off.”

“Nn-…”

“I’ll make you dinner.” Claude tilted his head, grinning a bit.

“…sold. Alright. I’ll be another hour or two.”

“But no more.”

“…but no more.”

They ended the call there- and Claude only laid in bed for a few more moments before standing and brainstorming dinner ideas. He briskly walked to the kitchen and started to prepare some things, sharpening his knives and washing stranded dishes in the sink.

He decided this was decent motivation- Sebastian was, at least.

He deserved to have nice things, and Claude was willing to provide.

It felt like a nudge- a nudge from outside the circle to its center, wanting to peek inside.

And maybe, just maybe-

For a day or two,

He could break some of this boredom,

This ennui,

And learn something new about

Anything, really.

Fuck it, you know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading!! 
> 
> lemme plug my friend's sebaclaude tungle bc Good
> 
> https://butlerbfs.tumblr.com/


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